The Matrix & Elysium: Psychological Oppression (Movie Review)

As we’ve worked toward the upcoming release of Neill Blomkamp’s (District 9next release, Elysium, we’ve worked on preview pieces at Hollywood Jesus. I agreed to work on this one, a look at how the Wachowski brothers had taken Big Brother-like ideas and morphed them into the cyber kinetic, visually explosive package that was the 1999 hit, The Matrix. Given how many people dig the work of the Wachowskis, and Blomkamp, I offer up this mash-up of epic, sci-fi proportions. 

Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves, post-Bill & Ted’s and Point Blank, and pre-everything else) recognizes that “there is something wrong with the world” as he hacks his way into, through, and around the files and systems he has broken into electronically, as evidence of the shadowy Matrix appears in bits and pieces around him. But then one day, the beautiful Trinity (Carrie Ann Moss) arrives with news that there’s a conspiracy and that he, Neo, is in the middle of it. Soon, he’s getting phone calls from the mysterious Morpheus (Lawrence Fishburne) and arrested by Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving), who we know has clone-like abilities based on a chase scene we see through Trinity’s perspective. What IS the truth here? And who controls it, Smith or Morpheus? And how can Neo make his own choices in a world where everything seems controlled by everyone else?

In Elysium, the privileged live in an orbiting space station utopia where everything is perfect, crime-free, and disease is removed. We know that the Earth below this is desolate, and the humans who remain are worker drones with only the worst remains of our society, like overpopulation, disease, pollution, etc. The status quo appears threatened when factory worker Max DeCosta (Matt Damon) gets cancer and seeks a way to break into the utopia to get himself cured. Of course, the utopia has anti-immigration laws, backed by Secretary Delacourt (Jodie Foster) and her henchman, Kruger (Sharlto Copley of District 9). Can one man’s desire for a better life actually break through the cycle of repression?

See how those two express some of the same distaste about our world’s dichotomy?

Morpheus reveals to Neo that his whole world is a drug-induced coma, put upon him by sentient machines who want to keep the human population “out of it.” Their privileged status keeps the majority of the humans in the dark, but the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar and their fearless leader threaten that. In fact, there’s some Judeo-Christian imagery around Neo’s being “the One,” and leading a rebellion against the machines, powered by the strong ability of his mind. Of course, you can tune out all of the imagery and just enjoy vintage sci-fi, as the Wachowski brothers banter, bicker, fight, and send us flying through mind-bending special effects that are still amazing today. In fact, thanks to the clarity of high definition, this film might look better than it did a dozen years ago!

DeCosta’s problems appear to be more tangible: he KNOWS that his life isn’t what he wants it to be and that someone else’s life is better than his. The oppression is more overt even without a red pill. We won’t know for a few more weeks how it will play out, but the Wachowskis play more of a psychological game with the viewer than Blomkamp will. His direct-on attack of apartheid in District 9 wasn’t completely blunt, but it was hard to miss; his pursuit of class, social norms, and immigration seem pretty straightforward before even seeing the movie!

The Matrix has more of a Platonic feel, where you know that we’re getting a look at what it means to be lead by your nose through life, seeing mere shadows on the wall of what the real images look like. Are they going after religion, or science? Is it political or social? Is it maddeningly just clever entertainment? (I mean seriously, these people made Speed Racer!) Whatever you think the point is, it’s still all Truman Show: Neo is recognizing that his life isn’t what he thinks it is.

Only time will tell in a direct one-to-one relationship whether these films will stand the test of time, and if Elysium can outclass The Matrix in getting us to think. It certainly seems Blomkamp is more socially proactive than his latter day peers, but we’ll see. All we can know for sure is this: the truth is out there.

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The Hoodie Verdict: Law vs. Justice

I have to admit it: I’m angry. And sad, confused, disappointed.

The George Zimmerman trial ended with an acquittal of the charges of 2nd degree murder and manslaughter in the shooting death of teenager Trayvon Martin. Zimmerman was determined to have “stood his ground,” and justifiable by Florida law. I register surprise, but for me, it’s a question more of justice than the law.

Justice says that a young man should be able to walk to the store for Skittles, wearing a hoodie and a different shade of skin than many of the neighbors there. The law says a man in Florida has the right to own a handgun and to stand his ground when he feels threatened. The law says that the case against Zimmerman couldn’t be proved, while justice says Martin should still be alive.

Unfortunately, both sides of the debate will try to vilify the Neighborhood Watch volunteer and the hoodie-wearing youth. The fact is that there are enough injustices to go around, and the truth about motivations and intent will probably never be known. But if Zimmerman wouldn’t have had a gun, and if he had listened to the 911 dispatcher and not followed Martin, would Martin still be alive?

I’m a big fan of the hoodie. And teenagers. I’m a fan of a free country where you can watch out for your neighborhood, and where you can walk down the street without threats. I’m a fan of free speech, and the Amendments to the Constitution. But I’m grieving the loss of a life, the rift in a community, and a country whose laws don’t always make sense.

We’ve got to take a good long look at what we believe about guns, about racial stereotyping, and about educating people to treat each other as their neighbor. Maybe Martin threw a punch; maybe Zimmerman went looking for a fight. But if Martin doesn’t throw a punch, or Zimmerman doesn’t follow him… they never collide violently. The law says no crime was committed, but my heart cries for justice.

Justice won’t happen if we keep treating our neighbors like enemies, those who are “other” like they’re threats, those who look, dress, talk, worship, or believe differently like they’re without merit. Justice won’t happen if we don’t learn from Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman, or if we react violently because we’re hurt.

The Bible is full of stories of people who encountered God’s justice, or spoke out about what God cared about in terms of justice. The prophet Isaiah wrote, “Learn to do right! Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow” (Isaiah 1:17). Micah took it a step further: “He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8).

We can’t react to the tragedy of Martin and Zimmerman until we recognize what justice is. It’s an everyday thing, a process of considering our laws and changing them, an accounting for how we treat each other, and how we experience our lives as part of a bigger picture.

So, today, I’m praying for the family of Trayvon Martin and for George Zimmerman. They all need to know God’s love right now. And I’m praying for us, that we learn from our mistakes so that our children aren’t more of collateral damage of our great country’s battle between law and justice.

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42: A Living Legacy (Movie Review)

I’ve always marveled at the Civil Rights movement, as idealistic individuals on different sides of the color line worked together to overturn the laws of discrimination against African Americans. Some thought them crazy, others thought they were right, many more thought they would never find success. But many things changed then, and continued to change for years afterward. Those efforts culminated in the 1960s, and seem remarkable looking back. But peeling the layers back further, one can see the amazing efforts of individuals along the way, before the tidal wave of support rolled back the Jim Crow laws and real change occurred.

One of those stories is told in Warner Bros.’ film, 42: The Jackie Robinson Story, featuring Chadwick Boseman as the fiery infielder for the Brooklyn Dodgers, and a nearly unrecognizable Harrison Ford as the forward-thinking manager of those Dodgers, Branch Rickey. Rickey famously challenges Robinson to be the “kind of player who doesn’t fight back” in a story that Pat Williams fleshes out in his book, How To Be Like Jackie Robinson (which tells even more stories from his life than we see in the film). But what happens here begs the question, what happens to Jackie Robinson without Branch Rickey? And how much of Rickey’s work was pragmatic and how much was forceful idealism?

42 makes us see Rickey as the idealist, as he asks one opposing manager how that dissenting manager will respond when God asks him in heaven, “why wouldn’t you play against Jackie Robinson?” For my dollar, as a Methodist pastor, I find myself impressed that the film includes the cut of Rickey’s statement that “I’m a Methodist, Jackie’s a Methodist, God’s a Methodist!” (We don’t get that much press time.) But what we can see of the Robinson-Rickey connection is one of two faithful men who recognized a problem (the ostracism of the black man from baseball, the “national pastime”) and did what they could to change it.

What we recognize in the film is that baseball doesn’t become a shining light in the civil rights movement without men who were willing to stand for something even while everyone else was falling out of the way. Whether it’s the onslaught of racism from the Phillies’ dugout in the person of Ben Chapman (Alan Tudyk) or the latent, careless, and cowardly racism of Pee Wee Reese (Lucas Black). Whether it’s true or not that those particular men said or did those particular things, they represent two kinds of evil in the world: those who perpetrate evil because it makes them feel good and powerful, and those who perpetrate evil by standing aside and letting others suffer. It’s an example of sin by commission and omission, but neither one is actually “worse.”

Frankly, I didn’t expect much of 42 when I went to the theater to see it the first time; I figured that all of the good scenes had been in the trailers, that the unknown Boseman couldn’t be too convincing, that it had to be too watered down to be real. (I actually didn’t even know that Ford WAS Rickey, and after seeing it, it still requires squinting!) But I was impressed by the way the story was told, and the way that the baseball seemed real and not forced. I wondered if Robinson hadn’t had it harder than was actually depicted, but I was pleased that they’d make a movie that wasn’t the vanilla PG version we read our elementary school kids. The civil rights movement is a hard movement, a powerful thing that was soaked in the blood, sweat, and tears of those who died and struggled for those freedoms.

Watching it again, I remain impressed. Robinson’s tale is one everyone should know about, regardless of color or place of origin. But Rickey’s is as well. Maybe you won’t be a groundbreaking role model whose story is sung for years, and made into movies. But what if you’re the encourager, the supporter, the benefactor of someone else’s growth? What if you’re the one who steers someone to Alcoholic Anonymous, or introduces them to faith, or points out the things in them that you see that they can’t? What if you’re the one who needs to show them the potential God has for their lives?

Maybe you will be the next Robinson. Or the next Rickey. Or even the next Pee Wee Reese. You could do a lot worse.

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World War Z: Finding A Cure For What Ails Humanity (Movie Review)

In a long-troubled trip from the multi-voiced novel of Max Brooks to the screen adaptation by J. Michael Straczynski, World War Z gained more negative press heading to its arrival in theaters in June 2013. But in the first few weeks of its release, it has gathered in more than three hundred million dollars and received much higher critical acclaim than expected. Given its proximity in genera to one of my favorites, AMC’s The Walking Dead, I felt obligated to give it a shot, even though I have a rather low view of Brad Pitt, the film’s leading man. And I must admit: the film is one of my cinematic highlights of the summer.

On an average day, Gerry Lane’s (Pitt) family finds itself stuck in the suddenly dangerous streets of Philadelphia, as zombieism spreads quickly (and I do mean quickly). These zombies move suddenly, swarming like insects over, around, and above anything, throwing themselves like kamikazes at animate objects, as if they are united in common thought like bees. In fact, there’s a naturalistic approach to the epidemic that spreads, like M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening, Scott Smith’s The Ruins, or some other nature versus humanity apocalypse. And that naturalism gives the film a reality that blends well with the humanity of Lane’s family, especially his taut satellite phone calls with his wife (Mirielle Enos) as he globe trots for the U.N. trying to track down the epidemic’s origins.

Indie director Marc Forster (can I still call him that after the Bond bomb Quantum of Solace?) uses some of that Paul Greengrass-like shuddering handcam shooting that nearly makes my stomach explode but doesn’t overdo it. We feel the palpable tension of the initial “arrival” and the need for escape; we understand the rock-and-a-hard-place situation that Lane has to accept when his family is given sanctuary in trade for his services; we recognize classic military gunbattles as they occur between trained Navy Seals and zombies; we can see the hide-and-seek of Lane and his fellow survivors as they traipse around the country looking for a cure. WWis basically three or four films within the film itself (and Paramount has already greenlit the sequel).

But what I’ve always found fascinating about the zombie genre from I Am Legend to Walking Dead is the way that the sickness is in us, not just alien and other, in a way that speaks to my theology. The theologian Ben Horrocks wrote, “As always, I think zombie/alien/monster movies fundamentally are about what it means to be human, how challenging it is to live fully as a human.” Lane moves from “not my problem” to “how do I impact this?” And it’s very apparent how the zombieism is aggressive, even called “a serial killer.”

It’s clear that “nature” is hunting healthy humans in WWZ and an inoculation of what’s NOT in us is required to keep those healthy humans safe. I believe that Jesus came to live life as a human because we couldn’t save ourselves from the sickness. In fact, Jesus had to become sin for us (2 Corinthians 5:21) because otherwise we couldn’t be saved. Lane deduces the need for the inoculation to make humans the “same” as zombies because they would then be left alone. Jesus’ death allows us to be forgiven, to be “left alone” when it comes to death and final judgment.

Now, I’m sure that’s a reach for some (as it sort of inverts the order of created good versus sinful nature), but how about this? When Lane amputates the recently bitten Segen (Daniella Kertesz) arm, he takes a full form approach to Matthew 5:29: “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.” If the zombie virus is the sin and it is threatening Segen’s wellness, then Lane’s amputation provides a cutting off of the “sick”/sinful part, so that the rest of the body would not be compromised.

But it still misses the obvious Christ-figure element of the final moments, and Lane’s decision. In this case, it’s more of a “well, might as well,” than a bold moment. And it definitely harkens back to Legend, even as Lane becomes the brave, the bold, the heroic, the sacrifice that no one else is willing to risk. Sure, it seems that he MUST but isn’t there a sense that Jesus MUST go to the cross, because that’s what he’s here to do? Just like Lane is an “essential personnel” because he’s a retired U.N. investigator, he becomes the most essential personnel by taking the greatest risk.

[One more takeaway that jumped out at me, for those of you who like a scene to discuss. When Lane meets with the Mossad leader in Jerusalem, the Israeli references the “10th Man” policy. Upon discovering a reasonable threat, if nine people saw it exactly the same way, the tenth man was responsible for arguing heatedly the counter or opposite point. This was a response to the way that the nation had failed to address other attacks head on… I was instantly struck by this policy and wondered what would happen if we applied it in our communities and our churches? If the first nine people said, “well, that’s the way we’ve always done it,” then the tenth must say, “but here’s a better way.” Too often, that’s the pastor (if we’re talking church), but what if we as a group determined we’d actually explore every avenue? Food for thought.]

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The Lone Ranger: Justice Defined (Movie Review)

To be quite honest, I had NO positive vibes about Disney’s second reboot of an old franchise in the last year (I still can’t finish the train wreck that was Edgar Rice Burroughs’ John Carter). Does anyone see the problem with painting Johnny Depp in “brown face” and throwing him out there as the oldest Native American symbol of power, friendship, and justice? How about Armie Hammer, who has no charisma whatsoever playing one of the longest-running American heroes of the last century? And how could Gore Verbinski’s take on a classic after the make-up laden rampage that was the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise?

Apparently unlike most of America, I found myself entertained from the get-go. As the prerequisite ambush went down on screen with Butch Cavendish’s (William Fichtner) gang gunning down John Reid (Hammer) with a squad of Texas Rangers, I found myself thinking that Verbinski had taken the same scene from the television show and from Christopher Lloyd’s The Legend of the Lone Rangerand still made it even more intriguing. And I have to credit Tonto (Depp) for that, and the storytelling layers that Verbinski lays down on the film, even as we question how much trust we can place in the Ranger’s mentor/friend/sidekick/adversary. There’s a humanity here, mixed in with the humor, that somehow makes it less cheesy than you’d expect.

Don’t get me wrong: Depp and Hammer ham it up a couple of times, reducing the audience I saw it to near tears. Tonto clearly doubts the Ranger’s ability/heroic potential (wishing that Reid’s dead brother would’ve been chosen by the “spirit horse,” Silver), and his eye-rolling sarcasm is legitimate. But Hammer’s Ranger is no dummy, and he gets his shots in, too. That humor isn’t the “mainstay” you might’ve expected given the Verbinski/Depp connections in Pirates of the Caribbean, but it stirs the drink of the otherwise action-packed, explosive movie.

The Lone Ranger has more of a Wild, Wild West (the Will Smith version) or Silverado (Kevin Costner!) feel to it than something along the lines of Justified or Hell on Wheels, but there’s grittiness here, too. It extends past the death of the Ranger’s brother, thanks to the cannibalistic nature of Fichtner’s Cavendish, and the violence that comes down on Reid’s widow and her son. And while a made-up Depp originally seemed an ironic choice for Tonto, the film pulls no punches in its singling out of various Caucasian-on-Native American crime, in terms of butchered villages, cheap trades of trinkets for land, and racist tendencies. The encroaching railroad may be considered “progress,” but the overall vibe of human nature here shows that the people are anything but progressive.

Still, the movie is largely a popcorn-munching ride of epic proportions. If you liked the Zack Snyder take on Man of Steel then you’ll probably dig the pounding action that only twice allows for the “William Tell Overture” to soar. Hammer’s Ranger still won’t kill, but his pursuit of justice occurs in a hail of bullets, punches, and explosions. It’s not all CGI but this is definitely the case of CGI adding to the overall delivery rather than taking away. It does play a little long, but my attention span might’ve been negatively impacted by the twelve previews I sat through before the feature rolled!

So what’s my takeaway? Most of it revolves around Tonto, whose backstory drives the way we receive the story, interpret the story, and consider both of our main characters. There’s plenty to be considered about Tonto as a narrator and a mentor, but even more importantly, we’re forced to examine Tonto’s motivations, and whether his pronation toward violence is more legitimate than the Ranger’s non-lethal approach or not. That’s a question that the movie asks, but how we interpret it will probably depend on what we already think. Is the Ranger “soft” or naive? Is Tonto violent or angry? Are they each justified, as countermeasures to each other?

The Lone Ranger is a study in methods of justice. It asks what’s a “just war,” in evaluating the railroad, the Union army, the Comanches, Tonto, and the Ranger. And it forces us to consider whether or not “an eye for an eye” is legitimate in that age and in our time, or if we’re simply fooling ourselves to consider whether or not there is another way. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear that Disney is giving the film a sequel, so fans of the film may want to soak it all in while they still can.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: Holy Ground

For worship on Sunday, July 14, at The Stand (casual and contemporary, 9 a.m.) and Blandford UMC (traditional, 11 a.m.) Reading Exodus 1-5 isn’t required, but it wouldn’t hurt!

As we continue to weave our way through the Old Testament, we find ourselves engaging the life and legacy of Moses, an Israelite son who rose to prominence in a home that was not his own, before experiencing disgrace and wandering, and finally being lifted up again and used by God for greater glory. This is the story of Moses, of Israel, … of us.

When we return to the story of Israel in Exodus, the good times of Joseph’s influence have been replaced by a new Pharaoh who has no love for the Israelites and who puts them to work as slaves. When the Pharaoh orders all of the Israelite boys of a generation to death, Moses escapes execution thanks to his sister’s quick thinking. He winds up being raised in the Pharaoh’s household, and assuming all of the rights and privileges of an Egyptian ruler.

But one day, Moses has one of those moments. We’ve all had them. Sometimes we act on them, and sometimes we don’t. We see a situation where something is so wrong it needs to be righted: we hear about someone experiencing financial losses that they can’t overcome; we see a person being abused physically or emotionally and are unable to stand up for themselves; we recognize that an institution or situation is unjust in its very essence. And we have to choose whether or not we will be part of it being fixed.

So here’s Moses, we assume in his young adulthood watching a bunch of Israelites struggle against their oppressors, and he watches an Egyptian beating a Hebrew. And he kills the Egyptian and hides the body, thinking no one will know. It’s not the sort of thing that Moses has any intention of making into a practice; he’s not trying to start something. He just saw a situation and he responded immediately and without thinking. It was wrong and he made that thing right. But he didn’t actually mean to address the overall institutional problem.

Moses is suddenly a persona non grata in Egypt and he flees to Midian, fleeing his adoptive father. He sees a group of women caring for their father’s flock, and watches a band of shepherds attend to drive them off. But Moses intervenes (see, there’s that instant hero brewing) and battles off the shepherds. Moses is welcomed into the father’s house and soon marries one of his daughters, Zipporah.

In the meantime, the Pharaoh died, and the Israelites cried out to God for his deliverance. And God decided that the time was right to deliver his people from Egypt.

And Moses, oh Moses, he has no idea what is about to happen.

See, Moses is taking care of his father-in-law’s flocks in Midian. He’s settled into being a Midianite, having shed his Israelite skin, and his Egyptian skin. Now, he’s the good Midianite son-in-law, a former Israelite-turned-Egyptian overlord-turned-murderer-turned-shepherd. He’s an anonymous man forgotten and alone. He’s hiding out with the sheep where it’s safe, and his responsibilities are pretty boring or blah.

He’s just out caring for some sheep that aren’t even yours. You’ve been there, right? Taking care of someone else’s dirty work? Laboring to make it through the mundane day-to-day. Figuring this day will just be like every other day before it, and every other day after.

And then God shows up.

It says that the angel of the Lord appeared to him in the flames of fire from within a bush.

Um, what exactly does that look like? Phoenix fire like the X-Men? A small supernova? Staring into the sun?

Moses sees that the bush is on fire but it did not burn up. And he says something like, “Hmmm… that is strange. I will go get a better look at it… it doesn’t burn up but it is in fact on fire… Yes, let’s get CLOSER to that thing which is on fire.”

Are you that kind of person? Are you like the people who responded at the Boston Marathon bombing that ran TOWARD the explosions while everyone else ran away? Are you the kind of person who could be one of the nineteen firemen who pursued the wildfire while other people found somewhere else to be? Are you the kind of person that gets closer to a burning bush that is in flames but not consumed?

And to reward Moses’ curiosity, his natural boldness, God speaks to him.

God calls him by name, and says, “Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals because you the place you are standing is holy ground.”

God doesn’t say the ground Moses is standing on is holy. He says WHERE Moses is is holy ground. Where Moses and God are communing is holy ground. They place they are PRESENTLY, currently, absolutely is holy ground.

And Moses is supposed to be reverent because he and God are there together. And God wants Moses to recognize that he SHOULD be afraid- not stuck in that fear but righteously aware of what it means to be communicating with God in that place. That the God of the whole universe would know his name and would want to be in a single, sentient, human lifeform conversation with JUST HIM.

Because God has a plan that is bigger than Moses, bigger than shepherding a few sheep that weren’t his. Bigger than whether Moses was Israelite or Egyptian or Midianite.

God tells Moses, “I have seen how my people are suffering and I am going to rescue them and give them back heir own land. And I am going to choose you.”

Okay, a few minutes ago, Moses is investigating a cute little bush that’s on fire but isn’t consumed. A few minutes ago he’s trying to figure out how the laws of science and physics have been overcome and how a BUSH IS ON FIRE BUT ISN’T BURNING UP!

And then God decided he was going to use Moses, who in short unpremeditated bursts was brave but who was really no different than you or me, not knowing how to overcome evil precedents and organizational structures that held people down and corrupted them, to do something amazing and liberating and freeing and empowering and ARE-YOU-OUT-OF-YOUR-MIND-CRAZY?

Moses seems to be dealing with this the way I would, or maybe it’s the way Vampire Weekend would, given their song, “Ya Hey”: “Through the fire and through the flames, You won’t even say your name, Only ‘I am that I am,’ But who could ever live that way?” It’s a ludicrous, unbelievable situation. So Moses argues (wouldn’t you? I would! …okay, I have.)

Argument #1: Who am I? …. God: I will be with you.

Argument #2: What if they ask who you are?…. God: I am who I am. The God of your ancestors.

Argument #3: What if they don’t believe me?… God: Check out the snake that was your staff a minute ago.

Argument #4: I don’t talk good…. God: Who allowed people to speak?

Argument #5: Please send someone else! … God: I will send your brother with you! Now, get out of here.

So God sends Moses back to the place where the bounty is on his head, back to the court of his own adoptive family, back to a horrible situation where his real people pre-Stockholm Syndrome in the Pharaoh’s palace, to lead a bunch of unhappy, beaten down people into a journey that they don’t know or understand.

Now, Moses will become the guy who will deliver twelve plagues on Egypt, who will cause the Red Sea to be parted, who will receive God’s Ten Commandments from God that are still studied, followed, and obeyed to this day.

Moses, the unprepared hero. Moses the “if I think about it too long, I’m going to run.” Moses, the one with five arguments for why he couldn’t do what God was telling him to do.

Moses the man who lead a nation out of the hand of oppression, who helped fulfill the promises of the covenant that God had made to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

Moses the hero.

But what happens if Moses doesn’t see the burning bush and go closer? Does God just choose someone else, or does he send a whale like he sent for Jonah (I guess a land animal would be required for Midian… a giant camel, maybe?) Or do the people of Israel labor longer and longer under the cruel hands of the Egyptians?

Which begs the question: what holy ground are you standing on? What does God want you to do? How can you move from selfish to selfless?

It seems like we’re always waiting for God to act and do something spectacular, and somehow God’s waiting for us to act and do something spectacular, too. Maybe like Branch Rickey or Jackie Robinson, the stars of the biopic 42.

In 1945, Branch Rickey, the manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, challenged Jackie Robinson to be the kind of man who didn’t need to fight back when challenged by racists or battered by pitchers fastballs. He challenged Robinson to be the man who would let his religious convictions speak more strongly than his fists. And in the process, the world of baseball was changed irrevocably.

What happens if Rickey doesn’t challenge the racial stereotypes in baseball? What happens if Robinson can’t keep his fists by his side, and swing the bat and field the ball instead? What if he accepts his teammates’ offers to get back at the inside pitches and the nasty cleats he receives by the rules of baseball instead of killing his opponents with kindness? What happens if Rickey and Robinson don’t realize that the place they are standing is holy ground?

These men realized they weren’t called to live boring or safe lives. They were called to live boldly and brightly, not just for themselves, but as a blessing to others. They had to experience their own holy ground movement for themselves, but it is everyone who benefited.

God calls us from the dark, from the burning bushes that are not consumed, from the conversations we have with our wiser peers and our elders, from the cries of our hearts when we see injustice perpetrated against those who can’t fight back. And God calls out to men and women who will stand on holy ground, who will be wonderfully fearful of the God of the universe who knows them by name, who will stand up and be counted for the moments and times such as these when God says, “I am sending you in my name to the least and the last and the lost that they may know that I have heard their cries and I have not forgotten.”

Friends, there are many who are oppressed by poverty, by loneliness, by strife, by hate, by being unloved. And our excuses, although they be many, do not stand up to the words of God in response: “Go. I am sending you and I will be with you. This is holy ground we are on together. I am and always will be. You go. And you. And you. And you.”

The bush still burns miraculously without being consumed. Are you bold enough to go closer to look? Will you accept the challenges that it voices back to you?

“You are on holy ground.”

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Dead Man Down: Vengeance Requires Payment (Movie Review)

Even the most broken heart can be mended.–Darcy

How can a film with Colin Farrell, Terence Howard, and Noomi Rapace be “under the radar?” Dwarfed in marketing by Oz the Great and PowerfulDead Man Down didn’t have a chance. But for those into thick (and somewhat convoluted) plots, dripping with dark thriller noir (directed by Niels Arden Oplev of Girl with the Dragon Tattoo fame), then the story of one man’s revenge for the death of his family and one woman’s quest for vengeance for her horrible disfiguring may be just the home entertainment you ordered.

Victor (Farrell) is undercover inside the organization of drug mastermind Alphonse (Howard), picking off the drug runner’s crew one-by-one as he attempts to avenge his wife and daughter’s deaths; Beatrice (Rapace) catches Victor killing a man on videotape and blackmails him, hoping he will kill the drunk driver who robbed her of her beauty and job security. Both of them are drawn into the crosshair of Alphonse’s man Darcy (Dominic Cooper), another enterprising criminal whose new family gives him a sense of gravitas, who is investigating the deaths of Alphonse’s crew, and discovers Victor’s involvement. But Victor has a rival gang leader hostage and works to play the two crews off of each other, drawing more villains into the plot.

What could have been a simple, dark tale of vengeance instead morphs into a slow boiling tale that challenges the audience to consider what the best outcome would be. We feel for both Victor and Beatrice as they struggle with their pain and their rage, but we also recognize a la Zero Dark Thirty that the quest for violent vengeance is costing the pair something in return. The Confucian saying, “when seeking revenge, first dig two graves,” bears witness here, but in this case it may be three! And Victor’s complicity in leading Beatrice to want revenge doubly compounds the damage that both of them experience, because she didn’t want revenge until she saw Victor kill the man in his apartment.

We don’t know for the majority of the film who will survive unscathed. It’s clear that Victor has been sullied by his undercover time in the organization, and in his exacted revenge. And we know that Victor wants to keep Beatrice clean and clear of having actually caused someone’s death, whether it was justified or not. She’s mentally entertained it, but the distinction is made between thinking about and doing it, considering the violent deed and perpetrating it. But in Matthew 5:21, Jesus links the thinking about and the doing, as if our hearts have been corrupted by the very contemplation of murder, and the degrees of descent into this shadowy world show that no one gets away completely clean.

Dead Man Down is a bloody parable about justice, vengeance, and pain, that will entertain you but will likely force you to consider the slippery slope of revenge.

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The Heat: Redefining Family (Movie Review)

FBI’s finest (most by-the-book) agent, Sarah Ashburn (Sandra Bullock), finds herself up against a mysterious drug lord, and forced to work with Boston’s finest (thorough and rough) cop, Shannon Mullins (Melissa McCarthy), in the latest girl power film from Paul Feig (Bridesmaids). Feig’s creation mashes the “typical” buddy cop, with hard-drinking, swearing, testosterone-charged, high strung men and the kind of humor that Judd Apatow (and Feig) have made famous with women and men. Can Bullock’s string of comedic hits continue (The Proposal, Miss Congeniality) with McCarthy playing the over-the-top counterpunch to her foil?

With the script from Parks and Rec writer/producer Katie Dippold, the answer is an edited “heck yes!” Mullins swears at, punches, and threatens everyone in her path, intimidating her own captain and even Ashburn; Ashburn has closed more cases than anyone else, but her irritating style has annoyed everyone along the way. Neither one of them is “complete,” but the standard means of completion haven’t worked for them. It’s a constant case of mirroring with a slight twist: the women each have no romantic connections, no family support, and no respect from their co-workers. Their lives outside of work are lonely, and miserable.

But the potent mix of Bullock, McCarthy, Feig, and Dippold provides laughs, profanity, and some poignant moments, too. The pursuit of fugitives, the friction between Bullock’s uptight persona and McCarthy’s “bull in china shop,” the cautious exploration of flirting by Ashburn toward Marlon Wayans’ Agent Levi– all of these artfully weave a spin on the standard buddy cop formula, and gradually pull us into the expression of friendship and family developing between the two women.

Mullins’ family is dysfunctional. Married with Children dysfunctional. Yelling, screaming, and cursing each other, their only unification is in hating Shannon for putting away the youngest son (Michael Rappaport) for drug use and dealing. But at least Mullins’ family was together, unlike Ashburn who was shuttled from one foster home to another. Frankly, family systems  theory would show how all of their dysfunction individually could be traced back to these broken families, these hurting relationships, these absences of something tangible to hold onto for themselves.

Unfortunately, there are too many people who can’t recognize their brokenness and try to drown it in work, drink, sex, food, or whatever may come. (Kyle Idleman has a great book about this, Gods at War.) These people fail to see that they are loved or needed regardless of family of origin, and they fail to receive help from a concerned mentor, friend, support group, or church. They never quite have the breakthrough moment that Mullins and Ashburn have, and they don’t ever see a way to break the cycle.

The Heat shows in its unorthodox way that the cycle CAN be broken, that family can be achieved in ways we didn’t see before. The truth is, I believe we’ve all been “adopted” by God, regardless of what we’ve done or where we come from, and that makes all the difference.

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Freedom, Guns, And The 4th Of July

“That could have been my son.”

That’s the thought that’s been playing in my head off and on all day, and frankly, has me back out of bed tonight. It’s been playing on repeat since I heard the story of seven-year-old Brendon Mackey, who should be celebrating his summer between second and third grade, but who instead lies dead of a gunshot wound.

See, Mackey was on his way to see the Fourth of July fireworks in my quiet, little neighborhood, when a bullet fell from the sky and struck him in the head and killed him. A bullet fired from a gun somewhere in a five-mile radius that someone shot off while they “celebrated” Independence Day.

We can debate all day what the Second Amendment to the Constitution means, but it says, “A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” It says we’ll have a well-regulated militia (which we may or may not have) and a free state (which we may or may not have) and a right to bear arms (which we currently do have).

But it doesn’t say that a seven-year-old boy should be dead today because of a stray bullet. It doesn’t say that you have a right to discharge your firearm with careless abandon. It doesn’t say that parents should fear for the lives of their children at a public display of patriotism and celebration.

We’ve seen public displays of sadness and frustration with events like Sandy Hook and the Boston Marathon, and we understand that while we can never make sense of them, we see the evil, the brokenness, of a world where we cannot keep our children safe from every danger. But we recognize that there is intentional malice in those moments.

And then the Fourth of July 2013 strikes and we recognize stupidity and ignorance as causes of our tragedy, and we are forced to pray that for the love of God, for the love of neighbor, for the love of our children, people will finally recognize that guns are not toys, or cool, or things to be objectified. But that their purpose is for death and destruction, and to aim it at anything is to point it to kill.

I pray tonight that someone will recognize that while we believe “guns don’t kill people, people kill people,” that someone stood next to the person who murdered Brendon Mackey within that five-mile radius, and thought it was funny or cool to shoot off their firearm, when it wasn’t. And that someone who reads this story will use their weapons only when called to arms or hunting, rather than showing off their bravado, or that someone will stop the next person who thinks firing off a round might be “fun.”

And that what might be the next “Brendon Mackey situation” won’t actually ever happen.

Because if not, it could be you or me planning a funeral the next Fourth of July.

I pray to God it isn’t so.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: Shadows Prove The Sunshine

This sermon is for Sunday, July 7, at The Stand UMC at 9 a.m. and Blandford UMC at 11 a.m. in Petersburg. If you’ll be there, stop reading! For the rest of you, it’s based on Genesis 37-45. Please leave your thoughts in the comments– I’d love to hear from you!

Remember the show Married with Children? Al Bundy (Ed O’Neill before he was Jay Pritchett) headed up a family that made you feel like your family really wasn’t that bad. The truth is that not all families work the way that they should, the way we want them to, the way that God intends for community to be.

But that’s the way many families in the Bible relate. They’re just.. not quite right.

In our story today, we see seventeen-year-old Joseph. He’s a bit of a narc, reporting back to his father when his brothers are goofing off in the field while they’re supposed to watching the sheep, making a name for himself as his father’s favorite, and compounding that he’s already the one his father favors. But his dissonance with his brothers grows when he relays back two dreams (one about grain and one about the solar system) where he is the center of the universe and his family bows down to him.

Is that naïve? Or arrogant? We don’t know for sure. But we do know that Joseph isn’t exactly making any friends with any of his ten brothers.

But then one day, dear old dad sends him out to check up on his brothers again. We know he can expect a good report, that Joseph will thoroughly examine what his brothers are up to. But they’re not where they’re supposed to be, and when he finally tracks them down, it’s certain that the brothers can expect another bad report to their father. So they plot to kill him and blame it on a wild animal.

Pretty extreme, right? In the end, it might be more humane than what they actually did.

The brothers strip Joseph of his famous robe, woven just for him by his father to make him spectacular to look at, and his identity, throwing him in a pit and later selling him to a group of traveling traders. He’s sold in slavery in Egypt, and ends up the chief slave for an official of Pharaoh in Egypt.

Now, a couple of things about Joseph. Obviously, he’s organized, intelligent, a good communicator, and he quickly works his way up to being responsible for all of Potiphar’s house, even when he’s away. Potiphar trusts him. But when Potiphar’s wife comes onto Joseph, he cites his responsibility to Potiphar AND to God, refusing her advance. She accuses him of attacking her, and he’s thrown in jail.

From favorite to slave to favorite to prisoner. Joseph has reached rock bottom.

We know from our own experience that there are plenty of stories about people who met God for the first time when they were at rock bottom. We see that Joseph already knew God… but maybe he didn’t quite understand how he fit into God’s master plan. Whatever the case, he finds himself, in his twenties, chained next to the Pharoah’s chief baker and cupbearer, and interpreting their dreams correctly. Years later, the cupbearer tells a cranky Pharaoh that there’s a slave who can interpret his dream. Pharaoh sends for Joseph, and Joseph explains that God is providing seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, and that Pharaoh should put a wise man in charge of storing up for that time.

Pharaoh sees that the Spirit of God is on Joseph and puts him in charge of all of Egypt. Joseph saves and saves and saves. And then famine comes, reaching all of Egypt and much of the surrounding areas.

Reaching so far back that even Joseph’s family is affected back in Canaan.

So Jacob sends Joseph’s ten older brothers to buy grain. He won’t let Joseph’s younger brother Benjamin go along because he’s afraid to lose him, too. And suddenly, the brothers are standing before their long lost brother again, only this time they don’t know him. But he knows them.

Joseph puts his brothers through a series of tests, until they’re forced to consider what they’ve done to him—and whether or not they’d sacrifice themselves to save Benjamin or not. Joseph tests their ability to learn from their mistakes, and to recognize the gravity of what it would be to lose another brother.

And just when it seems like the brothers would break, Joseph reveals himself to them, and tells them that “God sent me ahead of you to save lives.” Later, after his father dies, and they’re worried about his vengeance, he tells them, “Am I in God’s place? You intended to harm me but God used it for good, to save many lives.”

When you experience trauma in your life, do you respond with “you meant this for evil but God used it for good?” When it involves family, are you able to take one for the team, or do you have to see someone suffer as much as you did?

Joseph proves something here with his enduring love, his steadfast faithfulness, his willingness to be a blessing for other people that’s remarkable. He counts his suffering as a mark of being used by God to be a blessing. Do you see your life that way?

In their song, “Shadow Proves The Sunshine,” Switchfoot sings,

Oh Lord, why did you forsake me?

Oh Lord, don’t be far away away

Storm clouds gathering beside me

Please Lord, don’t look the other way.

Crooked souls trying to stay up straight, 

Dry eyes in the pouring rain

The shadow proves the sunshine

The shadow proves the sunshine

Shine on me,

Let my shadows prove the sunshine.

The truth is that we each have a shadow, cast by the way our lives aren’t quite everything we want them to be. Maybe it’s sickness in the family; maybe it’s a crushing divorce or personal relationship. We are “crooked souls trying to stay up straight,” but we’re bent, and too often broken, by the loads we carry. We try to bear them on our own and we end up stooped down until our shadows and our lives seem to be touching.

Joseph’s life could have been burdensome. He could’ve looked back and realized that his hubris had led to his family’s hatred for him. That his place as a slave had robbed him of the right to defend himself; that years in slavery and prison as the result of someone else’s meanness had left him deprived of the life and love he should have had.

I’m sure Joseph prayed that prayer in the song, “oh Lord, why do you forsake me.” But somewhere along his way, he recognized that without the sun, without the power of God in his life, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish that the shadows were temporary and fleeting.

First, Joseph claimed that for the life he lived as a slave rising to power in a foreign land. And second, he claimed it within his family.

The most dangerous shadow cast over Joseph’s life wasn’t the one of lying in that pit, waiting to be killed or sold into slavery at seventeen. No, the most dangerous shadow was the voice in his head certainly crying for vengeance against his brothers, to right the wrongs by his own hand, to punish them for all of his pain and suffering.

But the sunshine that Joseph knew, the glimmers when he was sold into slavery and not killed, the moment when he was thrown into prison rather than executed for crimes against his master; the moment when he recognized he could save his whole family instead of dying alone and unknown in a foreign country… Joseph had learned to recognize the sunshine.

Joseph knew that no matter how bad his family looked… no matter how horrible his life had been at times, God had a plan. (You can check out the Joseph, King of Dreams music video, “You Know Better Than I,” to get the wrap-up.)

One of my favorite Bible passages is Jeremiah 29:11-14, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, but to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and will bring you back from captivity.’”

God knows we’ve been sent into situations that weren’t pleasant, weren’t aimed for our good. Some are with our families, with our jobs, with our health, or our friends, or our minds. But the good news for today is this: God has a plan for you to give you hope and a future.

Even those moments that were intentionally set up by someone else to bring you harm, God is using for good, just like Joseph told his brothers.

We might not see the good, or understand the good, for years, or ever. But God WILL use the evil for good. God WILL prove the sunshine. Or Sonshine.

The hubris of Joseph telling dreams about his superiority shows us he couldn’t handle the decisions he’d make for Egypt, and for his brothers, at seventeen. But after the life experiences he gets, the moments of isolation and abandonment, the dreams he had come true, and he can recognize what to do with them. His life has come full circle; he can see the plan.

I remember a decade ago, in seminary, in the course of a few months, that I broke my leg and I flipped my car. I was no fan of seminary to begin with, but in the course of those events, I lost my freedom to come and go as I pleased, I lost my part-time job, I was almost set back a whole semester in school, I was financially broke. I wondered why God would drag me to the middle of nowhere with no family and let those things happen to me.

And then some friends put me up in their house for three weeks til I could walk with crutches. And someone else gave me a ride home. And when I could drive again, someone loaned me a car, no strings attached. And a friend sent money to another friend to buy me groceries. And someone left hundreds of dollars anonymously on my chair in class so I could pay that semester’s bill.

And I realized in ways I never had before that I was not alone. That I was not self-sufficient. That what I had could be taken away, and be given back, and in the process I would see my life as so much fuller than before. It’s driven me to be more generous than I was before, to organize benevolent ministries for those in need in the short term, to see that what I have isn’t just for me.

All of those shadows proved the sunshine.

I pray today that you would find the peace of God in his plan for your life. May you recognize the shadows in your life, claim them, and point instead of to your troubles to the sun that shines. Without the sun, there are no shadows, just darkness. Thanks be to God, we don’t live in the dark. Go out and prove the sunshine.

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